An Old Story of Forbidden Love
by Theanimekitty89
Summary: In a time where African Slavery is quite common and where whites and blacks are not considered equal, a boy is captured and seperated from his village. He's brought to America and sold to a wealthy family that consider him beneath them. His burning hatred towards whites takes a turn when he meets the young and beautiful daughter of his Master; Jinja Williams. Read and review!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'm pretty excited about writing this. I'm not sure if I can nail the whole African Slavery thing, but I'll do my best. I know I shouldn't be such a lover of my own plot, but I really, really do. Just wanna share that xDD**

* * *

"_**There's no such thing as free. There are only different and more horrible ways to be enslaved."**_

**C**h**a**p**te**r** I:** W**h**e**n **T**h**e** T**r**a**p** S**n**a**p**s.**

* * *

The sound of a wailing child pierced the empty night, along with the faint and soft whispers of safety and comfort from a tired mother. The hard and wooden surface was drifting up and down slowly in time with the colossal waves underneath of the ocean, and the air was moist, clammy and malodorous. The space to move around with was practically a joke; as everyone was pressed against one another in the most unimaginable angles and only a few was capable of sleeping anyway despite the sick and torturous environments.

One thing was for sure; _he_ wasn't sleeping. Not because he wouldn't – because all his mind screamed for was the blessed ten hours of sleep – but because he couldn't. His back was brutally violated with several cuts, gashes and red marks to prove this statement, his new chains were digging fresh marks into his brown skin, his hands were faintly shaking and badly bruised and his left cheek was swollen and lower lip bruised as well from a mighty blow to the side of his head earlier _that_ day.

That dreadful day that was sure to haunt him for the rest of his life.

His whole body tensed up as the memories slowly surged back; fresh but not as horrible as experiencing those memories. The loud voice of his Father, the screams of pain and agony from his Mother and the mocking laughs of his captors when they carelessly burned his home down. He'd fought them with every bit of strength in his body, but he knew he was done for when they'd chained up his old man. No one was able to beat him. So, when he showed resistance towards the Slave Hunters, they showed him no mercy regardless of his age.

They took out 'Whipper'. A large whip they mainly used for hunting purposes. They figured they could use it in this case, anyway.

"_Get the fuck into the truck, Negro! We ain't got all day! How long do you fucking think it takes to catch all your fella' Niggers in this fucking village? Get the fuck in, I said!" _

They whipped him on almost every bare spot on his body, punched him half-unconscious and then kicked him when he finally fell to the ground in a defenceless state of unconsciousness. His body felt like it was on fire when he woke up in the storage room of the ship; the most severe wounds were poorly tended, while others were left to heal on their own. He'd punched and banged his fists against the gate that sealed away his freedom and yelled at his captors to release him, to give him back his beloved parents and then give him a gun, so he could personally shoot their brains out. His curses eventually died out along with his voice, and with his hands all numb and slightly swollen, he slid down on the floor and let his body shake with the unbearably hot rage that burned within him.

Slowly, other blacks began to fill the space even when there wasn't enough and the young African boy finally had someone to talk to. The majority of the newly-caught slaves were drowning in their own misery and despair to even want to talk with him. Then he stumbled across an old man with a long white beard who provided him that information he dreaded would ever happen to him.

"The Slave Hunters capture the coloured people of Africa and sell them on auctions. Then, they must submit to whoever their new Master is."

"Why?" the young boy had asked. "Why do they capture us? Why do they sell us? Why do we have to do what some guy says? Like them stuck-up rich white folks can overpower us-."

"Oh, they do, my boy. They do, oh, so greatly," the old man continued. "From the day they capture you, you're under their mercy. From the day you arrive in their land, you're in their territory. A whole continent of whites will be looking down upon you as dirt and you cannot escape your new Master once he has bought you. Because if you do, he won't hesitate to kill you."

The young boy narrowed his eyes in utter tiredness and he could feel his body shaking more than before. His sore hands tightened and even the pain couldn't replace the one he felt in his chest. "Why…why?"

Even though the boy hadn't formulated his question clearly, the old wise African man still knew what he meant. He'd asked himself that question far too many times already.

"Because they do not think we're as equal as they are. We are large in numbers…but they will always be us a better match in almost every way. Technology, knowledge and power. For them, that is everything that matters."

"But it _isn't_?" the boy mockingly asked with an empty laugh."'Cause to me, that alone sure has given them a damn big advantage."

"Spirit, my boy. You must always have a kind and good spirit and always seek the best in people. Do not cloud you mind with bad intentions or else they might get you nowhere else but in harm's way. Promise me, my boy…that you won't think every white person is evil. If you think that way, you won't be any better than your captors. If you think that way…then, you have submitted to their beliefs and have truly become a piece of dirt."

The young African boy had a hard time believing this, because his new hatred for whites had grown rapidly in the last few hours. He sat down and prayed long and hard for the safety of his parents. He prayed for them to soon be reunited once again.

He prayed God for this to be over so badly.

* * *

"For the last time, Father, I won't be going with you! What you're doing is so…unbelievable! I feel as if I don't know you anymore!"

Lord Williams adjusted his dark coat with a light huff, his gloved hand coming to smooth his perfectly combed hair. He could see the reflecting of his only daughter on the large mirror and he couldn't have asked for a prettier one. Her long locks of auburn curls gracefully cascaded down her back and her expensive pale yellow dress really complemented the beautiful blue colour of her eyes. Her gloved arms were crossed tightly and she heavily pouted which was supposedly were meant to look serious, but ended up being a great failure.

"Jinja, my darling, don't be such a bother. Can't you see that I'm doing this for your sake?"

She whipped her head sharply, her bangs falling out of order for just a second. Only. "You know how strongly I am against slavery! You know how much me and my friends dislike all of this and our hard work to end this violation of the Africans!"

"Which I think is a complete waste of your time, my dear," the Father said and went to change gloves. "You could be doing so many things instead. Say, have you visited the Dixons like I advised you to?"

His daughter narrowed her eyes. "I've said this so many times, Father. I am not going out with Alpha Dixon."

"Why not? He's a handsome young man from a wealthy and noble family whose Father is one of my closest friends. His grades are remarkable, his behaviour is admirable and he has trophies for various forms of sport activities. What more could you want?"

"For starters; chemistry. Less of an ego and less of stories about himself. Then we can focus on his exaggeration of hair gel."

"Now, Jinja, aren't you being a bit too demanding?"

"You're demanding me to date a man who you hand-picked yourself! You're the one who ignored my protests of getting this family a black servant like you always do, and now you're demanding me to go with you to the auction!"

"Well, for once, I'm letting you decide which Negro we should buy. I can't see the problem in that."

Jinja stared blankly at Lord Williams and turned on her heel, marching out of the living room before she could do something un-ladylike. "You're unbelievable. Just unbelievable."

The Lord sighed, unable to understand his daughter who was almost eighteen by now. He buttoned up his coat and looked for his hat. "I just don't get her sometimes."

"Don't mind, Jinja, honey," the silky voice of his wonderful wife sounded. "She's always been a bit of a rebellion and she just may not be comfortable with the Slavery Trade yet. She needs time to adjust, that's all."

Jinja had mostly gotten her beautiful looks from her Mother's side; Mrs. Williams just had a more mature and womanly face and body. She also wore a long dress, small gloves and her brown hair was held up in a perfect bun. In her hands laid the high black hat that her husband was searching for. He leaned in to peck her cheek sweetly and retrieve his hat.

"I'm the world's luckiest man for marrying you, Catherine. Thanks, dear."

"I know, Ben. Be home back in time for dinner."

He nodded before exiting his grand mansion and entering a clear white outside world, driving on a black expensive car on the snow-coated highways.

* * *

He woke up by the abrupt sound of the people among him nearly stepping onto his fingers – and himself in general. He was covering in a sheen of sweat from the nightmares he'd been having and his eyes wildly sought everywhere in disorientation. He wanted to stand up slowly due to his injuries but was rammed into from behind, causing his sore wounds to flame up in absolute agony. He couldn't go anywhere but forward due to the constant pressure coming from behind, and he noticed that the gates were wide open; the whiteness causing his eyes to narrow reluctantly to shield his eyes.

He had no idea for how long he'd been in that ship or where he was going. Neither of those answers would prove to be promising, but he deeply feared the latter.

A rush of coldness immediately invaded his bare chest and he gritted his teeth; instantly missing the warmth he was engulfed in back in there. Voices began to bark orders and he was harshly taken from the large crowd and dragged away. When he finally got out of the stinking ship, the world seemed all the more difficult to take in.

It was all so…white. And freezing.

His entire body shook from the force of the cold and he was unable to wrap his arms around his body to keep what shreds he had of body-heat. His bare feet were walking on white substance that was icy cold to the touch and every white person was walking around in their warming and thick clothing, completely ignoring the same need for the blacks among them.

Damn, how he hated those men.

The man dragging him had grabbed onto the chain of his handcuffs, and the young African boy could only bite back the howls of pain he longed to release, as his handcuffs had now gnawed a good piece into his wrists and his captor wasn't going to spare him any pain anytime soon. He wasn't going to beg for mercy for this piece of scum in this life or the next. He was pushed into one of many carriages that were driven by two horses each and left a bunch of African strangers after the door was locked. The young boy stared blankly at the floor in numbness, as whispers in other African languages were spoken among him, as if he didn't exist.

At this point, he really felt like he didn't. At least not anymore.

Countless of hours went with being driven by the strange carriage and the young boy felt like he couldn't feel his feet anymore. This coldness was unbearable. Did whites really live in this kind of weather? No wonder how they'd become such cold-hearted people themselves when living in this environment. His brain – that was in a heavy need of sleep – began to form traitorously thoughts about who his new Master would be. Male or female, he would never break. He promised himself that he'd break out of his new prison and disguise himself as a white; then, get enough needed material and information to find his parents and help them escape as well. He hadn't lost faith in miracles. And he really needed one right now.

Suddenly, the carriage stopped in a spot with much noisy background. How could he have not noticed this sound of these people speaking before now? Then, his blood ran cold in his veins when a horrible realisation came into his mind; another act from his traitorous brain.

The selling auction. Where the fate of blacks were being decided.

The gate opened and the young African boy could literally feel his heartbeat through his ears when a heavy man stood as a dark figure in the entrance. He lashed out and grabbed the upper-arm of a young woman who screamed in fear and was dragged outside in the cold. The boy could hear loud disagreement between the people and then when there had been an agreement of some sort, they all clapped.

But the woman was still screaming in her mother language.

The man came back inside, now stepping before the young boy himself who could only gasp in fear when a large hand grabbed his arm and started dragging. He tried to resist and struggle but the white man was too powerful and he himself hadn't slept, eaten properly or had medical treatment. Otherwise, this bastard had been done for.

He was engulfed in absolute cold when he stepped outside and his eyes widened greatly. Before him stood the sight of a large crowd of whites who blankly stared back at him as if he was an animal. He barred his teeth in sudden anger and wanted nothing more than to tear them all to pieces; each and every one.

_You're all cruel beings of the devil. You're all gonna regret looking down on me as a worthless piece of meat. __**You're all gonna pay.**_

Another white man in rich clothes had a microphone in his hand and spoke loud and clear for everyone to hear.

"This slave hasn't just a pretty face; he has the will and strength of a bull! We had to call _five _of out Hunters to get him and use weapons too! This young lad is most ideal for outside work and can carry about anything you throw at him! Say, kid, what's your name?"

The microphone was brought under his chin by the white man, and suddenly he could see nothing more than red. He hit the device so that it landed far away in the crowd and lashed out to get the guy who panicked and distanced himself away from the young slave.

_**Give me back my family! I hate you all! I'll hurt you twice as bad as you all hurt me!**_

Two men ran out to get a hold of that situation but before they could even touch the boy, a voice cut through:

"Interesting. Feisty, full of pride and don't give up without a fight. I like that. I'll give a hundred thousand dollars for that lad and add another ten for each higher bidding."

There was absolute silence as Lord Williams had spoken from the microphone that had landed on the ground. The announcer wiped his forehead in confusion and raised his arm.

"The biddings haven't even started but sold to Lord Williams for the payment of a hundred thousand dollars!"

The African boy glared at the man in subsisting rage and panted heavily from the effort of moving with his not-enough recovered body. He slumped down on the ground as sweat trickled down his face in utter exhaust and faced another difficult realization.

This man…was his new Master?

* * *

**A/N: Took a day to write 0w0 Actually, less. So…yeah, racism and stuff xDD. I'm a Somalian myself and I've felt racism before -3- So, I know how Dax' feels. Also, I'll let you know that he's 19 in this fic. **

**Yeah.**

**So…review, anyone? Oh! And please check out my Medea and Chase fanvid on Youtube! :D **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Such lovely comments ;o; I honestly didn't think it'd be that good! Also, one of my reviewers turned out to be Somalian as well :D Whoever that is, I'd really like to meet you~**

***Fail regarding Lord Williams car. Let's say that it's horse-driven and stuff.***

**On with the chapter!**

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_**"Those who will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves."**_

**C**h**a**p**t**e**r** I**I**: M**a**r**k**e**d **a**s a **s**l**a**v**e.

* * *

It's over. He was bought so quickly just like that. His life was now in the hands of a damned white person. The mere thought got his blood boiling with rage and his teeth to grit, though he was still freezing uncontrollably. The young African boy was brought away from the stage where another young man was now being sold. He still couldn't comprehend how people could sell and buy people so carelessly. The boy had been taken to his Master where the man gave a whole stack of money to his captor. His captor counted each and every with a much satisfied gleam in his eyes.

"The Negro's yours. Don't worry about communication because he can understand English just fine. Though, I recommend you to buy a big whip if you don't have one yet. This guy can put up one hell of a fight unlike the others of his kind."

"Does he speak English himself?"

"Don't know. He hasn't spoken to anyone since he was captured three months ago. S'also the reason why we don't have anything to call him. Personally, I don't have any problem by calling him a Negro trash."

Lord Williams took the handle of his slave's chain with a small curl of his lips. "I will keep that in mind. Also, I have my own methods to keep him in tight reins if the need should ever arise."

The boy looked at his Master with such anger, that his gaze could bore through metal. A tug of his restraints could be felt and he was glad to finally be walking. It helped to ease the cold. They approached the luxurious car and the boy was breath taken by its captivating beauty and smooth black surface along with the majestic two brown horses that drove it. A long piece of cloth was thrown on his head and he stared dumbstruck at it.

"Wrap you in it, kid. The man wasn't lying when he said that you were a fighter; you look awful. And I don't want you to bleed all over my leather-seats."

The boy scowled angrily at the ground as he did as commanded, though out of the sheer need to feel the blissful warmth in his body once again. His bare skin was feeling as if a thousand tiny needles were poking into his skin at the same time and his lungs ached painfully. His new Master opened up for the passenger seats and the new slave slipped inside, almost gasping of how the atmosphere in there had risen with several degrees. His body shook with delight as it absorbed the warmth while Lord Williams' personal chauffeur began to direct the horses towards his mansion with his newly bought slave.

**…**

The black car arrived in front of the huge mansion half an hour later. Small flakes of snow were slowly decorating the already white environment as Lord Williams exited his carriage and adjusted his thick coat. He knocked on the window to wake the slave from his supposed-slumber, since he'd been awfully quiet the entire trip.

"Now, you may come out."

He waited for a few seconds, thinking that the African slave at least needed time to move with all those injuries his body sported. He wasn't that heartless as to give beatings to an already injured child. If the boy died, he would just have been wasting his money for nothing. Suddenly, the door of his car was kicked open and the supposed-injured boy was running towards the woods as if he didn't hurt at all. Lord Williams calmly walked to his house-hold and went straight for a metal-box that was bolted into the wall, pressing a certain red button.

"How did the auction go, honey?" Mrs. Williams asked as she peeked out from the living room, obviously interested to see how her new slave looked like.

"Lovely. I bought the best slave they had for today for a hundred thousand dollars."

"That sounds lovely, indeed," the wife smiled. "Where's he?"

"Oh, he decided to bolt straight to the woods just as we arrived here."

"And…you didn't go after him? Honey…where you just throwing around with our money?"

"Hardly," said the husband with a small smile. "As a matter of fact, I just sent the hounds after him. They're trained to find any humans in the particular area of the woods which might be considered the first place slaves would run to."

"I knew I married you for a good reason," the wife kissed her husband's cheek lovingly and smiled which was returned by the love of her life.

* * *

The African boy huffed loudly as his feet repeatedly sunk in the icy snow. Every injury on his body was screaming in protest and was on the verge of starting to bleed as he pushed his body to keep running. The cloth given to him by his Master was tightly wrapped around him and fluttered in the cold wind as the distance from the mansion and himself became large and larger. The only bad thing that could happen about now was if he was running in circles, or if he would encounter any whites in here. The boy had been hearing stories from his fellow people, that there was a high possibility that whites in the woods would all carry a gun used to hunt deer or bears. So it was safe to say that if he would encounter any, the whole escape would've been in vain.

Suddenly, faint howls could be heard in the distance. The boy's blood ran cold in his vein as realization slowly sunk in. _Hounds_.

Coming after _him_. Dammit!

The slave desperately tried to make his way out of these cursed pine trees, but a lot more stood in his view. His throat was so dry and breathing was a pain that he repeatedly swallowed down during this escape. His feet were completely numb and his knuckles white from clutching the fabric around him so tightly in fear. His eyelids were so heavy and he was afraid that he might collapse from the internal and external pain and agony he was going through and the only thing left to fuel him was pure and sheer fear.

Oh God, he didn't want to go back. He wanted his family back; he wanted to feel safe within the embraces of his loved ones. He wanted his old life back so much.

Most of all; he didn't want to die.

There was so much that he hadn't been able to experience yet and he was way too young to die. He wanted to live the rest of his youth with adventure and friends, find the love of his life, have children and then live to an old age. Practically what every typical African male would do with his life. But he couldn't even do that because the white race decided to become bastards and torture every coloured person to ever exist.

He gritted his teeth brutally as he could hear the hounds a couple of metres behind him.

_**Damn all of you, whites! DAMN YOU ALL!**_

**…**

Lord Williams was casually walking among the large pine trees that were his property, stepping alongside the small trail of blood that the slave had created during his runaway. It made him reconsider if sending the dogs after him was such a good idea after all. I mean, they'd most likely tear him to pieces when they finally caught up to him. He took a whistle special made for the trained hounds and blew in it rather loudly; knowing that humans weren't able to hear anything but his hounds were more than capable. He continued to walk in the snow until he could hear his hounds coming back to him and surrounded their Master. Lord Williams walked nevertheless until he saw it.

His slave was sprawled on the icy ground with slight blood oozing from his back. His eyes were slightly opened and completely white, his dark skin was covered with goose-bumps due to the coldness but his hands were still clutching the long cloth he'd gotten earlier. Lord Williams was slightly shaking his head at the sight of his unconscious slave.

"It seems that a lesson needs to be taught."

* * *

Jinja Williams entered her house late at evening, wearing thick peach coloured coat and dress while her cheeks wore a pink colour due to the weather. She took off her winter attire and walked inside with fear clutching her stomach. She didn't want to see the new slave her father had bought. She didn't want to see how much he or she was suffering already, so she wanted to go straight to her father and continue her protests. What would all her demonstrations against slavery help if her family also had a slave? Nothing. She wanted to go straight to her father's office but encountered her smiling mother on the way.

"Hello, Jinja. Where have you been all day?"

The daughter huffed. "Been with my friends and making demonstrations near the local church. Nothing out of the ordinary."

Her mother sighed. "Jin, darling, please stop. It's becoming rather embarrassing with all this commotion you're stirring up. Nearly everyone around here is more than okay with the Slavery Trade. It's too big for you to do anything about."

"I don't care. You're all stepping upon human rights. Say, would you like to be a slave?"

"You know, Jinja, there's a reason why we aren't."

"That's because we have all the power!" Jinja exclaimed in anger. "And I'm not making a poor person suffer just because of the colour of their skin! Where's Dad? I need to speak to him."

"He's in the room we cleared out for the slave. With the slave."

The brunette's blood ran cold as she saw images before her eyes of what her father could be doing to the slave. She heard a door being closed and saw her father appear in the hallway. He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows; taking off his blood-smeared gloves and throwing them in the trash bin before putting on new ones.

"Hi, my dear. Have you had a good day?"

"Monster!" she exclaimed as she rushed over and banged her fists on his chest, much to his surprise. "You're not my father! You're a monster!"

"Now, now, Jinja," the father said calmly. "An example needed to be set. After all, he ran away already when we got here. I don't want any ideas to pop into that head of his while he's working for me."

"I'd be running away from you too if I was a slave! Dad, slavery is wrong!"

"Jinja. Stop spouting this nonsense around. You're almost a grown woman."

"Which gives me every reason to say whatever I'd like!" the daughter hissed as tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. "I'm setting this slave free whether you like it or not."

"Oh. Will you?" Lord Williams said seriously as he gazed at his only daughter. "And how exactly will you? The only way to set a slave free is to buy him off his current owner, which you're unable to do since every coin of yours belong to me. And if you're thinking of helping him escape, then forget it. He's more than traumatized from the chase my hounds went on to get him back, which luckily for him didn't result in him losing a limb."

"I hate you," Jinja snapped and turned on her heel to lock her inside her own bathroom. Her shoulder's were shaking and she furiously wiped away the tears that had fallen down her cheeks. Her parents were very loving and caring, but very heartless in the matter that regarded slavery. They had different opinions of what was right and what was wrong, so they often argued about this. Her compassionate heart ached by the thought of what had happened to the African while she was gone. Yes, her father was indeed a monster. To claim ownership on a defenceless human being and then hurting that person? This was cruelty in its finest form.

The brunette saw the first aid kit in the medical shelf above her mirror and felt a rebellious thought form in her mind, along with a small hopeful smile.

**…**

He wanted to die already.

If surviving was this difficult, then maybe he was better off dead. He was sitting on his bottom in a very dark room. He couldn't lie down because his back was hurt beyond recognition and throbbed in a horrible blending of pain and numbness. The boy felt so powerless with these chains on his wrists; the official mark of his status as a slave. It was probably midnight, because it was so silent. Only the sound of his own blood trickling down, drop for drop on the wooden floor gave a slight echo and the shallow breathing of the young boy. His condition had only worsened when his Master had brought him back to the mansion in an unconscious state and then woken up in this strange room with no furniture at all. Only a big pile of soft straw laid in a corner and a bucket – laid there for a reason too, he knew.

Lord Williams had begun to examine his body for earlier wounds and newly made injures such as bite-marks from dogs. Then, he walked around as in deep in thought before calmly replying;

"_You'll use five days on recovering from your wounds. I would've given you two, but with this one included, it's safe to say that you'll have difficulties in sleeping for a while."_

The slave's dark eyes had widened greatly when he was suddenly flipped on the ground; with a foot holding him down as he feebly struggled with his left remaining strength. His breathing picked up fast up and a bead of sweat trickled down his neck when someone entered the room to which the Master replied with a 'thank you, dear'.

The next thing he knew, an agonizingly burning object set his skin on fire on his back and he screamed.

"_Let this be a reminder of just what I'm capable of doing, slave. I don't tolerate runaways into the woods and I don't tolerate laziness when you're working. Is that understood?"_

Now, two hours later, the pain had dulled just a bit but not entirely. The blood trickling down his back was a constant reminder of another mark he'd gotten that day. Now he'd be recognized as a slave wherever he went and for the rest of his life.

Why was God tormenting him like this? Couldn't he show him just a bit of mercy and just end his life? The pain he'd be dealing with for three months straight was unbearable and he just wanted to feel content again. He was halfway on his way to be sleeping despite his wounds which was the first good thing to ever happen that day.

His breath left his lungs when he saw the door ever so slowly open up. Oh, no. Oh, please no, not again. He wasn't sure if this was a hallucination or the beginning of a nightmare, but he knew that more of this and he was _sure_ to die today. The door creaked a little and a slender figure stood before him; face engulfed in darkness and features concealed in anonymity. The person carefully walked inside and held something in their possession; a small box.

Maybe tools created to torture him further. He sneered angrily but pretended to be asleep. After a while, the figure continued to slowly go to the very hurting slave. A meter was separating them when the dark figure bent down on the floor and smiled, lighting a candle and placing it on the floor.

"You poor thing. No one should be treated this way. Don't worry; I'll be your friend and help you."

The young boy could hear the box being placed on the floor, and the next thing he felt was a cold, wet but smooth piece of cloth cleaning his sweat and blood coated skin. The movements were gentle and soft, removing much dirt that had been on his body for weeks. As a slim hand came to rest on his upper-arm, he was sure that it was a girl who was strangely taking care of him. But he remained still, pretending to be sleeping. That was until the cloth came to touch his incredibly sore back and he gave a hiss of pain. The girl was silent in confusion and cautiously turned him while bringing the candle near his back. She shrieked softly and nearly dropped the candle.

"Oh, father, what have you done…"

Soon, the room was filled with sniffs from the young girl and the slave was confused. She was shedding tears for him? This was definitely a hallucination. A plaster came to rest on a bite-mark, but the sniffing continued.

"I swear to God that I will set you free somehow, my friend. That is a promise."

The slave was speechless as the girl cleansed his old and new wounds with alcohol and bandaged them. She took special care of the back and after fifteen minutes, she considered the job done. The slave felt himself being lifted off the ground that was painted red with his blood, and onto the bed of straw that was made for him. As soon as he was settled, a hand came to rest on his jaw and he felt something poking his mouth.

"I need you to open your mouth. You must be very much dehydrated from that long run."

Water surged through his mouth and down his throat and he held himself back from drinking the water bottle dry. The person was patient and waited until he couldn't drink more when she retrieved the bottle and patted his head softly. The next thing the slave felt was something soft engulfing his body and he felt it as a big shawl belonging to the girl.

"You can keep it. I have many to replace it. Goodnight."

She picked up the candle from the ground and went to exit the room as softly as she came in. The young African boy was left with many mixed emotions, and eventually turned to cry as well until he was sobbing alone in the dark room.

Crying from feeling the first thing to kindness ever since he was taken from his home three months ago.

And he was deeply wondering if it was an angel, because he was certain that no white person would ever treat a slave this way.

* * *

**A/N**: **Phew. Long chapter x3 And very sad too. ;o;**


End file.
